


Oleander

by cherryinerror



Series: Aquilegia [6]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 04:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15987833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryinerror/pseuds/cherryinerror
Summary: A month after telling Dante about the pregnancy, Lady is plagued by a dream.





	Oleander

He's digging through the cupboards in the kitchen when she comes in, yawning and stretching her arms up above her head, still half-asleep. The habit of using his t-shirts as pajamas has not died down, something he's thankful for if he's being honest; it's such a minor thing, a different kind of intimacy, but one that always lets him know they're sharing a life together, that they have little, silly rituals and they stick to them only because they want to.

"What are you looking for in there?" Lady asks, squinting as she stands directly in front of a window located just above the sink. Sunlight slips through, hits her in just the right way to make the color of her eyes stand out. All that crimson and blue, her hair a mess, a faint line on her left cheek from sleeping with her face practically glued to the pillow for too long.

"Your tea," he answers, and at the sight of her raising an eyebrow, he adds, "I was gonna make some for you."

"Oh," smiling, she takes a few steps towards him, stands on the tip of her toes and gives him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," she says, moving past him and searching for a clean glass. "But please don't."

He stands back, staring as she opens the fridge, grabs the glass pitcher full of cold water and pours some for herself before putting it back inside and closing the door. There's something off about her, something Dante can't quite explain right now. It's nothing too bad, but it's in her movements, in the way she stands next to the small wooden table, one hand clutching the glass and the other on the back of a chair, ready to pull it to sit down but choosing not to.

"You don't like tea anymore?" he asks, eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

"I like it," she says, taking a sip of water and letting it cool her down. "The baby doesn't," she explains, setting the cup down on the table and placing her hand on top of her stomach, patting it gently.

"You were drinking it just yesterday."

"Yeah, well, I can't stand the smell of it now," she says, scrunching up her face. "Our child's gonna hate healthy things..."

Amused, Dante slowly pulls her to him and wraps his arms around her waist. "I feel like that was a slight dig at me," his tone is soft, and he gets lost in the scent of her perfume, how she buries her face into his chest and he rests his chin on top of her head, how they seem to exist outside of this realm, even if only for a little while.

"It was."

"Wow, I'm deeply wounded," he says, and the sound of her laughter fills up the room, makes him grin. "I'll have you know, I do like healthy things."

"Oh, sure, if we're talking about the strawberries in all the sundaes you eat..." she takes a step back to look at him, smirking.

"It's fruit, isn't it?" he says, chuckling when she rolls her eyes. "Our kid's bound to have impecable taste, don't worry. You feeling any better?"

Her expression softens; it's been a month since she told him about the pregnancy, and three weeks since they went for a check up with an OB-GYN. A kind, middle-aged woman named Priscilla who, after running some tests and requesting a couple more, reassured them everything is fine. At 12 weeks of gestation, Lady is in perfect health, but while the earlier symptoms have began to improve, her morning sickness hasn't. It's exhausting, sure, but nothing to be too concerned about.

A fact lost on Dante, whose worry seems to have instilled itself into his bones.

Lady doesn't know how much blame she has on this. On one hand, she did keep him in the dark for days, losing her nerve every time she tried to tell him about the baby and so allowing him to believe something was seriously wrong with her. On the other hand, she knows that in his life, she's the vulnerable one. He's a half-demon with a healing factor, she's a human woman prone to disasters and tragedies. Watching her getting sick every damn morning or feeling nauseous at the thought of eating something, or hell, drinking her favorite tea must be hard for him.

She knows how his mind works, and above all, she has noticed the way his hand lingers above her scars, how he traces them with his fingertips and gets this sullen look on his face, lost in his own thoughts.

"Way better," she tells him.

"Then what's bothering you?" he asks casually, staring into her eyes, his hand stroking her cheek.

Lady gives him a small smile. He's always been good at picking up the changes in her mood, even the smallest ones. It's not surprising given how long they've known each other and how much time they've spent together over the years. Even before that first kiss, before all of this, they've always gravitated towards one another, hanging around bickering about bets and money, playing pool and talking about hunts, sharing a secret here and there. Dante is the only one she's allowed to be this close to her, the only one who can tell when something is, in fact, bothering her.

"I had this weird dream," she answers.

"Wanna talk about it?" he leans down, starts nuzzling her neck.

"It was just a bad dream," she says in a whisper, tilting her head back to give him more room to nip at her skin. "It's nothing."

"You sure?" he holds her a bit tighter, one hand on the center of her back, pressing her closer against him. "I'm pretty good at making bad dreams go away."

His mouth is on hers before she can even respond, and she doesn't mind, fades into him, into his kiss, both of them forgetting about everything else. It's easy, always so easy, so simple to be disarmed by him, by this, all of her defenses down in one single motion and it's not different for him, not at all. He's said it once, said he's found religion in her and it's true, oh, it's true, the best kind for a devil like him, the greatest thing in his life.

The haze they're in gets shot down quickly though, the sound of the front door opening and closing startling them. Soon after Trish comes into view, standing by the kitchen's entrance, smirking.

"Oh my," she says, taking a good look at her friends. "Did I just walk into kinky cooking time?"

"' _Kinky cooking time_ '?" Lady repeats the sentence, stepping back while Dante laughs. "That sounds like a bad porno."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Trish shrugs, very much entertained by the whole thing. "Well, if I'm not interrupting anything...there's a job," she says, turning her attention to Dante now. "It's close by, don't know much about the situation yet, just that some kids were trying to summon a demon and things went a little wrong."

"Why do they keep messing with that kind of shit?" Dante asks, shaking his head in frustration.

"I told the client we could go and check it out today," the blonde explains, noticing the way Dante's gaze goes to Lady for a brief moment, his hesitation almost palpable. "But I can handle it if you're busy-"

Lady turns to Dante before he can respond. "Go and get the job done," she says, tenderly, and at the look he gives her, she adds, "I'm not made of paper, Dante, I can handle myself."

The devil hunter scoffs. He knows that, of course he does. But that annoying voice in his head just won't let up. What if something happens, what if he's gone and she gets really sick and he's not there to help her or what if the shop is attacked or _what if what if what if what if_?

He exchanges a quick glance with Trish, who has a smile on her face and an eyebrow arched as if to let him know he won't win this argument no matter how much he tries.

"Fine," he gives in. "If you need anything-"

"We'll be okay," the brunette says.

 _We_.

As in Lady and their unborn child.

 _We_.

That simple word fills him with a kind of euphoria he can't quite explain, rushes through his veins like a drug. This falling in love and starting a family thing really should come with a book, just so he can keep track of his emotions or something because he's feeling a little bit insane.

One minute he's suffocating in worry and the other he's drowning in happiness.

He leans in, kisses Lady one more time. "We could look into kinky cooking time when I come back though," he whispers in her ear, gets her laughing again and playfully elbowing him on the arm before walking alway, moving past Trish and telling her he'll be waiting in the car, muttering something about stupid kids doing stupid shit and leaving the two women alone.

Without swaying from her spot, Trish stares up and down at Lady, grinning.

"What?" Lady asks, half-hearted suspicion and amusement in her tone.

Trish takes a few steps until she's standing face to face with the other huntress, one hand on her hip and the other brushing a strand of hair from the brunette eyes. "He's right, you really are glowing," she declares.

Having no power over it, Lady blushes, looking away for a second and smiling. The implication of Trish's words makes her heart skip a beat. Knowing that they've been talking about this, about her and that Dante has been saying these things leaves her feeling way too giddy for her own good. With the morning sickness and the fatigue she's been spending her days thinking she looks like a disaster, so it's a nice surprise to know he doesn't.

"Take care of that moron for me," she says, face warm, that pretty pink on her cheeks.

"You got it," Trish promises with a wink, but the moment is overshadowed by the sound of a loud car horn. "Oh, he's so annoying."

"Right?" Lady adds, prompting them both to start chuckling.

She watches as the blonde walks away and waits until she's alone to take a deep breath. The car outside starts while she searchs for her cup of water, holds it in her hand firmly but doesn't drink it just yet. The dream she had earlier flashing through her mind, taking over most of her thoughts.

* * *

Dante arrives back home past midnight, finds Lady sitting on the couch, reading a book. She's no longer wearing his shirt, no, this time she has a pink tank top on and a pair of white sleep shorts. Her legs are resting over the coffee table, one hand on top of her lower abdomen. Although a little swollen, it's hard to tell she's pregnant given the lack of a prominent baby bump. Smiling at the scene, he takes off his coat and hangs it. She puts the book down, greets him with a smile of her own as he collapses on the couch next to her.

"How did it go?"

"Boring," he says with a sigh, shrugging, tipping his head back a little so it's rested on the back of the couch. "Those brats decided they were going to bargain with some lower class demon in exchange for money. One of them chickened out last minute, demon got angry, tried to eat them..." he rolls his eyes. "Fun stuff."

"Is everyone okay?" Lady inquires, stretching out her hand to run her fingers through his hair, slightly entertained by his rant and annoyance.

"Yeah, doubt they'll be dabbling with that kind of crap ever again though," he explains, enjoying her caress, letting himself calm down under her touch.

"Where's Trish?"

"Said she was gonna stay there for the night to make sure nothing comes crawling back," he says. "Pretty certain she just wants to make sure we get paid."

"Nothing wrong with that."

"She was never that concerned about money before," scoffing, Dante adjusts himself on the couch, sitting up properly, and when she takes her hand away from his head, he grabs her wrist, thumb swiping back and forth on her delicate skin. "You must be rubbing off on her."

Lady sticks out her tongue at him, crinkling her nose. The greatest thing about that little childish action, other than getting him to chuckle like a boy, is that she has no idea how insanely cute she looks. Unguarded, hair an elaborate mess that frames her face just right, her eyes with that glimmer that drags him in, the tiny freckle just above her chest and the pearly white scars that decorate her skin, she's the still point of his spinning mind, he thinks she can stop time if she wants, she can stop time with just one kiss.

And that's what he looks for when he leans closer to her, his face an inch away from hers and he's still holding her hand when he draws her into a slow, hazy kiss. His tongue exploring hers, she's honey flavored, his uprising, gets him floating and spinning, the thoughts in his head twisting about. She takes his breath away and when they break apart, he's the one breathing a little too hard, struggling to cool down, wanting more and more of her.

She's got him hooked, addicted to her taste.

"What about you," the gruffiness in his voice makes him clear out his throat, at least try to get back some of the composure she's constantly robbing from him. "How was your day?"

"Let's see," she says, looking up at the ceiling, eyebrows raised. "I slept through most of the day and...that's it, really."

"Did you eat something at least?"

"Yeah, some crackers-Oh! We need to buy more tomorrow," she says, excitedly. "Baby has no problem with crackers. And jam! Strawberry jam, to be precise."

Dante knows the morning sickness is tiring her out. He's been witnessing it first hand, always ready to hold her hair away from her face or rub her back, spending their nights on the bathroom floor because the tile floor cools her down. She always tells him to go back to bed but he refuses to leave. They're in this together, it's their baby, and if she's lying on the floor, then he's going to be there with her.

It's that simple.

He knows her entire body aches, and that she hasn't been sleeping properly unless fatigue takes over, but even then she often wakes up with a headache. It's been difficult, yes, and from the bottom of his heart, if he could trade places with her, he would. And so seeing her happy about crackers and strawberry jam, gushing on and on about their baby, grinning and giggling whenever they make a prediction regarding the kid's future is entrancing.

It's the most wonderful thing because she's this amazing woman who is giving him so much and he's thankful, he's so thankful, he's not sure she understands just how much.

"What did I tell you?" a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips."Kid's already making healthy choices."

"Uh-huh, getting closer and closer to strawberry sundaes."

"That's the hope," leaning back against the couch, he breathes out a groan. "I need a shower."

"Then come on, let's go upstairs," she stands up, grabbing his hands and pulling him with her. "You can take a shower and tell me all about the job, including the gory details."

Letting himself be dragged by her, he finds it funny how just the thought of drinking a cup of tea makes her nauseous now but listening to him talk about chopping up a demon into little pieces doesn't.

* * *

Later, when they're lying in bed-her back against his torso, his arms around her body-and everything is too dark and too quiet, Lady finds herself unable to fall asleep.

The words spoken to her in that dream swirl around her head, getting louder and louder, insisting in losing all their meaning and it doesn't matter how much she tries to block them out or force her eyes shut, it doesn't matter one bit, they're there, hovering an inch away from her ears, anguished and rushed and _my darling girl my darling Mary no no no no no no no no no_ and Lady chokes on a breath, sits up on the bed hunched forward, hand on her chest as she gasps for air.

The ruffling of the sheets next to her along with the creaking of the bed lets her know Dante is awake and she's not surprised when he gets closer to her, draping an arm over her shoulder, his hand gently squeezing her arm. "What is it," he starts, voice rough from sleep. "You feel sick?"

Shaking her head, she inhales, counts to four in her head and then exhales, a valid attempt to calm herself down, regain her composure. Dante is patient, doesn't ask her anymore questions but she can feel his eyes on her, observing every move or change, searching for any sign of distress. It's easy to understand his apprehension, but the guilt for waking him up speaks a little louder.

Conjuring up a couple of white lies on the spot, when she opens her mouth the truth spills out like an overflowing sink, surprising even herself who has never been one to complain about her problems, not even to him.

"I lied," she says, taking her time before looking at him.

"About what?" he asks, frowning.

"That dream I had," and the words come out in a rushed breath, as if she doesn't want them hanging from her lips, masquerading who she really is and turning her into this mess shrouded in self-doubt.

Dante remembers them in the kitchen before he left, remembers noticing something off about her but having trouble figuring out what. "Not just a bad dream then?"

A mismatched gaze on him. He's wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants, his naked chest rising and falling steadily as he waits for her answer, still holding her. He's handsome, he's so handsome and caring and sweet and she's safe, she's safe when he offers his protection like that, quietly, afraid of scaring her off by being too blunt.

"It was about my mother," she explains, struggling to get the last word out. "She was...I mean, we...I don't know where we were, I just remember her standing far from me. And I ran towards her, I didn't think anything was wrong, I just wanted to talk to her, tell her about the baby..." she trails off, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to tell me," he offers, voice low, soft.

"No, it's fine, I want to," but there's a second of hesitation in which she almost takes his suggestion to heart, more than willing to pretend nothing is wrong at all. "When...when I got closer to her, I could see she was crying. I called out for her but she just started hugging me and saying these things..."

"What things?"

"I don't know, I couldn't understand her," and it's a lie, yes, it's such a bad lie because she remembers every word, every single one, her real name being uttered in such distress sending a chill down her spine. "But she put her hand on my shoulder, like this," and to illustrate, Lady mimics her mother's actions on Dante, places her hand on his right shoulder, palm flat against his skin, and his eyes follow her movements before meeting her gaze. "And she cried harder and I couldn't snap her out of it, couldn't do anything. I felt so..."

"Helpless," he says, if only to let her know he understands.

"Yeah, helpless," she nods. "Then I woke up and...it's stupid, I know. But it felt so real," sighing, she looks away, ashamed for getting worked up over this. "It's just a dream, right?"

His immediate response is to take her hand and bring her to him, "It's just a dream," he tells her and she wastes no time burying her face on the crook of his neck, feeling a strange combination of calmness and dread wash over her, ready to fall asleep in his arms, right shoulder aching.

_It's just a dream._

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been writing these fics as stand-alones because, honestly, I'm a lazy piece of garbage and it saves me and my undisciplined brain from being concerned about updating a new chapter and then not doing it and letting people down and so on. 
> 
> But while it's not a requiriment, if read in order then those oneshots do tell a little story that I'm having a blast working on. Anyway, all of this to say that I finally got my shit together and put the oneshots under a collection/series named 'Aquilegia' so the story flows a little better. I also want to thank everyone who's been reading/commenting. I truly didn't expect any of this when I started posting and it means a lot. <3


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